


SLEEPY FUN

by thoughtsdemise



Series: The Twelve Days of Overloading [3]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Biting, M/M, Marking, Plug’n’Play, Somnophilia, Spark Sex, Tactile Interfacing, protoform, sneaky Jazz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-28 08:01:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18752311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thoughtsdemise/pseuds/thoughtsdemise
Summary: One the third day of Overload-mus my true spark gave to me, three sleepy overloads for Ratchet courtesy of Jazzy. (Jazz sneaks into Ratchet’s private quarters after he is out for recon.)





	SLEEPY FUN

Jazz grins as the number pad beeps him in without him having to hack it.  Something about the docbot being sick and tired of asking Wheeljack to fix it while trying to blow off why it was hacked in the first place.  And honestly if Jazz had just asked for the digits to his suite he would have gotten them. They both knew hacking the door codes was half the fun of this particular play they engaged in after Jazz had been out on recon, but the looks from Wheeljack were getting that particular brand of sly that could start the gossip mill.  Hence the keypad beeping him in without any fuss or even noise. One thing Jazz had asked for.

Satisfied with having gained silent entry at least, Jazz slips into Ratchet’s quarters.  The door shuts and locks behind him. He beams a particular string of code that only he could unlock or Ratchet’s emergency medical override.  That had been another fun lesson learned. Jazz shakes his helm and takes a moment to set his systems into “spy” mode. His internal mechanisms already dampened became almost impossible to detect or hear without specialized equipment.  He activates his vizor through all of its visual ranges along with his audio horns. While he scans the room, his main focus is drawn to the slumbering medic curled up in the very center of the berth.

Jazz has to pull himself back as his spark urges him to take an eager step forward to go claim the lounging turbofox sprawled on the berth.  He shivers and vents hot air quietly when his readings come back to let him know that Ratchet had stripped himself down to his protoform. Jazz pants for a moment.

_‘Mech sure knows how to give an invitation.’_

He takes a few quiet steps back to place his back against the door to collect himself.  Almost wanting to curse Ratchet knowing too well what made him tick and fired him up the quickest.  A glossa darts out, and Jazz licks his lips. He runs another scan, this time focused slowly on Ratchet to make sure the mech was indeed in recharge.  As he does this, Jazz stalks forward to stand at the end of their berth. His optics heavy as they watch their lover recharge deeply. A thin sheet the only thing separating Ratchet’s frame from his optics.

 _‘Vulnerable.  He’s so vulnerable like this,’_ Jazz runs through his processor.  The next thought of “mine” is quickly shunted to the side.  Not yet, it would ruin their play time.

Jazz raises a hand to the side of his face and pushes a button to retract his vizor.  His optics shift between blue and red as they finally settle on Ratchet’s form. A muted purple settles over them as Jazz places one knee on the foot of the berth.  He keeps his weight light that the padding doesn’t shift overly much. He could honestly throw himself on the berth next to Ratchet, and as long as he didn’t physically touch him, the docbot would stay locked into whatever recharge flux he was having.

Still…  He places both hands firmly on the padding and shifts his other knee quietly onto the berth.  He shifts forward in small increments from there until a hand came into contact with a covered ped.  Jazz pauses to give Ratchet’s face a long look when he shifts in his recharge. Jazz could almost hear the programming Ratchet had set up in his processor to trigger when his frame felt Jazz’s touch on his ped.  It would pull Ratchet into a deeper recharge cycle that only two overloads or smacking him upside his helm would draw him out of.

It still amazed Jazz when Ratchet had explained it to him that such a thing could be possible.  And although he understood every mech gave off a particular energy field signature despite Special Operations attempts to completely block them, he wasn’t quite sure how Ratchet was able to come up with such a program in the first place.  The thought made Jazz’s spark twist in hunger. All mechs knew he was dangerous even given his friendly nature, but few mechs knew or would even believe just how dangerous Ratchet could be. The two of them had meet in Special Operations after all.  Jazz had been quickly taken in by Ratchet’s blustery loud nature, and Ratchet had been drawn to the particular swing of Jazz’s hips and the way his optics sparkled in overload.

Jazz moves a hand to caress Ratchet’s ankle at the thought.  His touch firmer than it had been. He presses into the soft metal of the protoform.  Careful with his touch that he wouldn’t leave too much of a dent. The eagerness in his spark is quick to draw him up Ratchet’s legs so he could lay his frame down to press into his lover’s frame.  He shutters his optics and basks in the feeling of his lover beneath a cloth covering, his systems quietly rumbling in recharge. Jazz kisses Ratchet’s knee before grasping the cloth covering to pull down to reveal the prize he sought.

For every inch of protoform revealed to his optics, Jazz lays a kiss on one of Ratchet’s knees.  His optics follow the path of the covering as shoulders are exposed then a upper arms. Ratchet shifts to his back in his recharge.  The expanse of his chest shown with the move. The silver and blue spark dancing sedately in its chamber. Jazz’s hand tighten in the covering.  He bites at the covering over Ratchet’s knees to keep the moan from escaping his lips. A shiver runs over his frame as he parts his lips to pant in extra drafts of air.  His vents not enough to cool his frame at the first look at that spark. Jazz shutters his optics a moment later when he feels his own chest plates jutter in response to just the visual stimuli.  He takes a slow vent. Ratchet really did know how to undo even his carefully cultivated patience.

Jazz smirks and tugs the rest of the bed covering off in one move.  If that was the game Ratchet wanted to play then Jazz would give it to him.  He easily moves forward to settle himself over Ratchet’s hips. He unsheathes his claws with a click on each of his hands and presses into the soft metal of Ratchet’s thighs.  He drags the claws downward leaving thin trail that Ratchet was most likely going to bitch about in the morning because Jazz made sure that his claws sank in just deep enough that Ratchet would be wearing those marks for the next few cycles.  They wouldn’t impede movement in any way, but they would act as a clear indicator to every mech who was nosey enough that Ratchet and Jazz were having loads of fun again.

“Let’s see how you evade the stories this time, Ratch.”  

Jazz kisses the apex of Ratchet’s thighs, enjoying the way the shifted slightly from the stimulation to the cabling that ran over the joints and connectors.  He follows one line to a hip joint to bite at it deeply the joint. And while Ratchet’s red plates would cover the deep bite, he would definitely be feeling it tomorrow.  Jazz moves to Ratchet’s other hip and gives it the same treatment. He sits up enough to admire the markings he left on his lover.

Satisfied with his handy work, Jazz sits back on his peds and settles himself comfortably astride Ratchet’s hips.  He circles his hip enough to draw a light friction spark between their frames. He cracks an optic to watch Ratchet shift and begin to answer the rhythm.  Ratchet’s systems already priming themselves for their first overload.

Jazz reaches for Ratchet’s hands, twisting their digits together so he can apply the needed pressure to the sensitive mechanisms to push Ratchet over the edge of the first overload.  He was eager to get this one out of the way then again he usually was because the true fun could start after the first overload. Jazz presses his palms flat to Ratchet’s and tightens his digits in a painful squeeze.  Which was just the trigger that Ratchet’s systems needed to push him over the edge. His frame jerking beneath Jazz. Ratchet is quick to settle as Jazz untangles their hands and lets Ratchet’s fall back to the berth.

Locking his knees to stay steady above his panting lover, Jazz uses his claws to stroke at one of the access ports on Ratchet’s side.  He was tempts to pry both of them open and just plug in, but it was much more fun to coax Ratchet’s systems into opening up for him.

He runs the tips of his claws over the port cover.  Jazz picks at the carefully concealed edge before tapping one digit claw in the very center of the port covering.  It spirals open as he wiggles the tip inside. Jazz grins and dips the claw tip inside to stroke the port. In his recharge, Ratchet’s brows knit together, and opens his mouth to moan Jazz’s designation.  A look of discomforting pleasure settles over his features. Jazz presses into the port a bit deeper and a bit harder and watches in satisfaction as Ratchet unconsciously stills himself.

Jazz leans forward to reach his other hand up to Ratchet’s face.  He retracts those claws so he can run a soothing hand against Ratchet’s face.  He presses a kiss to Ratchet’s lips as he withdraws the claw from the port. He continues to kiss Ratchet while he reaches to his own side and presses open a cable cover.  The interfacing cable is quick to unspool at the slight tug Jazz gives it with how primed his systems already are.

He draws away from the lingering kiss and runs his free hand along Ratchet’s chest.  His digits lingering about the area where Ratchet’s spark spins lazily in its chamber despite the overload.  His optics flick down to it as he thumbs the connectors on the end of his cables. He bites his lip hard enough to dent.  He gives into his desire and rubs his index digit in a swirl over the top center of Ratchet’s spark. The outer layer depressing against his light touch to wrap about his exploring digit.  Jazz bends forward at the jolt of foreign yet familiar spark energy that zaps through along the cables of his arm and directly to his own spark chamber. He clutches at his interfacing cable in a death grip to keep himself grounded.  

“Primus, Ratch,” he whines and turns his attention to quickly snap his cable home in Ratchet’s waiting port.  He reaches his hand up to Ratchet’s shoulder to hover over the sleeping frame and to give himself a grounding point to stabilize his own frame.

He jacks into Ratchet’s systems shortly after.  His internal protocols recognized and invited deep into Ratchet’s processor.  He searches a bit to find the data packet for the physical response to tactile stimuli and activates all the wonderful little presents he had left in there the last time they had hooked up.  

Jazz moans loudly and rubs as much of his frame against Ratchet’s as he can to ease the overwhelming need for physical friction.  He is careful to keep clear of Ratchet’s spark for now. It didn’t leave him much to work with, but damn if he didn’t work his and Ratchet’s frames to a burning heat just from the physical stimulation alone.  The program firing off in Ratchet’s pleasure center just added layers of metal shavings to the oil cake. They heightened the heat before yanking it away, again and again. Jazz has to press firmly into Ratchet’s shoulder as he begins to thrash beneath him.  

Purple optics slight open enough to watch Ratchet’s face.  Mouth opened wide to drag in air that was not helping to cool systems running too hot all at once before being doused in a cooling effect.  Jazz braced himself against the overload that rampaged through Ratchet at the next cycle of heating up before a rapid fire cool down. He curses and dig digits into Ratchet’s shoulder joint.

As Ratchet’s optics snap open and land on Jazz’s above him, Jazz releases the lock he had placed on his chest plates, and they grind open, revealing his blue and silver spark.  He lets himself drop onto Ratchet’s chest fully. Their sparks come into instant contact and swirl about each other to connect without an hesitation or conscious will. The perks of being intimately familiar with each other.  Jazz loses himself in the feel of the other spark but is still vaguely aware of arms snaking about him to draw him in closer.

Two sparks merge easily becoming as one.  There is no beginning or ending as they cycle into each other.  Jazz becomes Ratchet as Ratchet becomes Jazz. The overload takes them soon after causing a cascading shut down.


End file.
